I shook my head and turned to page ninety-seven of Hamlet. I didn't read it. I already knew the whole story.

That's just the way I was; I could take a good look at any one or thing, and know everything about it. That's what happened earlier with Eleanor Mintz. Mr. Mintz was her father, and they didn't get along very well. There were a lot of at-home issues they were dealing with, and I felt sorry for them.

"So, is there anything fun to do around this town?" Carson asked nonchalantly.

I looked at him. So far, he knows me best, and that's not saying a whole lot... But still, I would've thought anyone could get the concept that I don't get out much.

"I'm not exactly the best person to ask."

"Well, what do you do when you're not here?" Hide and wait, I thought to myself.

"Well, I read a book" I lied.

"Really? What kind of books?" I sighed internally, wondering when he would be satisfied.

"Good ones," I answered.

"That's helpful. Any suggestions for me?"

"Nope."

"Thanks, I'll look into that." I was surprised. I hadn't thought of him as the type to use sarcasm.

I had to bite my lower lip to keep from smirking. I had to stomp on the tail of my mind to keep from breaking my own rules. I didn't know what I'd do if anyone else died because of me. Even if he were the only one, it's still one too many.

I focused again on my fingernails, trying so hard to ignore him. He asked a few more questions, but I couldn't let myself answer them. I wouldn't let myself answer them, for his own good if not my own.

The fifty or so minutes passed at an agonizingly slow rate, and I was relieved when finally the bell rang. I waited, impatiently, for Mr. Mintz to give the OK to leave. I knew better than to just walk out after the bell; I learned that lesson the hard way.

When he said we could go, I pushed past the crowd of students ahead of me so I could get away from Carson faster.

Once I was in the hallway though, a splitting pain pierced through my head. It felt like my brain tissue was being torn apart, though I knew that couldn't actually be the case. I tried to ignore the pain, gritting my teach and pressing my palm to my forehead, but it wasn't enough. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, and even though I knew there probably wasn't anyone paying any attention to me, I still felt the blood rush through my veins as my embarrassment increased. I rounded a random corner and pressed my back to the wall and slid down to rest on the floor.

In a matter of seconds the hallway cleared out, and I could only hear one set of footfalls. They drew nearer, and I resisted the urge to hide my face. Instead, I stood up, found my strength once again, and moved on to my class.

I was late by a minute, but I didn't care. I took my seat again, and did my best to pay attention to Mrs. Rogarcht. But all I managed to do was rest my head on my arms, press my cheek to the cool table top, and concentrate on breathing.

The pain of my headache only slowly escalated to a point where all I could feel was the intensity of its burning agony, and my vision was almost blacked out.

"Seattle?" Mrs. Rogarcht asked. I was barely able to reply with a grunt. "Seattle, are you okay?" I got the feeling that this wasn't the first time she'd asked me this question.

I shook my head slightly, afraid I might throw up or pass out. I heard a faint, "Could somebody take her to the office?"

I was barely aware of someone putting my arm around their neck and placing their hand at my waist to support me. Normally, I wouldn't have allowed anyone to come close enough to touch me, but at the moment I couldn't find it in me to care.

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